I will always remember you swaddled in my arms, with those heavy breaths slowly and silently along my neck. My body craves more sleep and my eyes give-up on their squinty tired days, but these moments are sacred. I yearn to know the days ahead - who you will be, who you will become - what life will look like with brothers running around in the yard together. What family vacations will be when you are trying to keep up with your older brother on his two-wheeler or trying to out-run him or be just like him in every way. But for now, it's you and me, in these wee morning hours; your ultimate trust in the safety of my arms, wholly surrendered to the familiar comfort of my embrace. This is what we have right now. It won't always be this way, but this is our Right Now.

In so many ways, it seems natural - this rhythm we have fallen into. Ben up with Jack in the morning as I scrounge together another few minutes, or even an hour, of sleep. I'm feeding Ford, Jack is sitting at the table with "soop-up time" and wanting to eat everything Ben eats, exactly how he does it. Ben on a morning call, or making his way down the hall to the nursery-converted-office. Our morning adventures together - Mom and Her Boys - the 30 minutes it takes to get loaded in the car with bribes of snacks and "water with lemon and ice cubes" and every other request for Jack. The hustle towards lunchtime and naptime - balancing brother in the swing, Jack with naptime needs (aka: every truck book and song he can think of...). Napping Jack, feeding Ford, Jack wakes up, Ford falls asleep. Is it 5 o'clock yet?! Ben comes out from work, dinnertime - balancing the feeding/rocking/napping with a glass of rose in hand - then brother baths, tagteaming - Jack's lights are out, Ford is possibly on his way to sleep. Ben's making a cocktail, I'm on the foot of the bed rocking the bassinet until I either join Ben or we eventually both fall asleep. Then again tomorrow. And on and on.

I wonder if I'm being a good mom to these boys - with attention divided and body exhausted. I want to give them all of me - to foster the growth and love of this little two-year-old heart; offer the sensory stimulation and language development for this 7-week old infant. Between daily tasks of cleaning and dishes and laundry and - have I even eaten today?! - it seems hard to offer them the presence I so desire to give. I remember that my presence is what they will take with them - Being with them is enough. Holding Jack, dancing to The Police Car song for the 100th time, this is how we grow. Meeting them where they are at - joining them in what makes their passions come alive. It is these everyday moments that the relationship is built, trust is formed, and learning happens. Will life slow down so I can Be with them? Deep breath. This season offers a pace I sometimes feel I can't keep up with - with always Time pressing up against my spirit - will my boys be in college tomorrow? The Missing Out thoughts haunt the mother in me... So here I am. Offering my best to them today. That's all I can be required to give - even when tantrums lead me to tears or lack of sleep leads me to shortened patience. Grace upon grace, [Jesus be near]. Two under two for 4 more days. Trying to not simply persist and persevere, but to take breaths of gratitude and find the Divine in and through and with it all. He is here, He sees. I find comfort in that truth.